


Try, Try, Try Again

by Sandaun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandaun/pseuds/Sandaun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz and Simmons finally have the talk they've needed to have for months.  Occurs three days after s2e10, What They Become.  </p><p>...</p><p>For not the first time in the months since Ward had tried to kill them, the empty space between Jemma and Fitz felt as deep and immense as the ocean they had been dropped into.  She had no idea what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try, Try, Try Again

The lab was empty save for Fitz, who stood with his back to the doorway with hunched shoulders, wearing the same dark blue cardigan he had on two days before as the team frantically tried to help Skye control her new powers. 

The last three days had been a nauseating whirlwind - stabilizing Mack, who had fractured bones and a fractured mind, searching for Raina after she disappeared without a hint of where she went or what she had become, and helping the frantic and grief-stricken Skye control new abilities that none of them could comprehend. FitzSimmons had worked on overdrive to understand Skye and help her before she caused any more tremors. 

By the time Jemma left the medical unit, confident that both of her friends were stable, Skye had fallen into a deep sleep with the help of drugs and with May watching over. Jemma had seen to it that Skye’s sleep would be dreamless. That was the least she could do. 

And now Jemma stood in the doorway of the Playground’s lab, pulling and twisting the ends of her blazer, unable to keep her hands still. The world was quiet for the first time since Trip had gone back into the tunnel to save Skye and Coulson. Fitz tinkered with a drone - Sleepy? - and hummed tunelessly in front of one of the lab’s many countertops. His frenetic energy gave Jemma an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. For not the first time in the months since Ward had tried to kill them, the empty space between her and Fitz felt as deep and immense as the ocean they had been dropped into. She had no idea what to say.

Fitz finally noticed Jemma in the doorway, placed the drone back onto the table, and turned around. His was face red and streaked with tears. “Hi Jemma.” 

“Fitz.” She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, head resting over his shoulder. “Oh Fitz.”

She let the tears come, tears for Trip, the man with the big smile and the bigger laugh, the one who always knew what to say to make the team feel better. The one who had flirted with her since day one, helping her break out of her shell and open up to new people. He was the definition of sacrifice, saving Skye and Coulson one last time before turning to ash. Too soon, Jemma thought, ash should come after death, from cremation, and oh god, for him to die like that, staring at Skye’s cocoon, probably thinking she was dead, that he failed… Jemma began speaking out loud without even realizing it.

“But he didn’t, didn’t f- fail. He saved them, Jemma.” 

“It’s just not right Fitz. Why did he have to die? It’s so stupid to ask, but why did he have to die? We should have stopped him. We should have done something. We should have understood the obelisk more. We should have-”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Not ye’ fault. Mine either. We… we did everything we could.” Fitz held her while she sobbed, tears falling down both their faces as Fitz looked up at the ceiling, eyes wide open and questioning the world. Minutes passed as she cried into his shoulder, and the sobs slowly turned to gasps, to uneven breaths, and finally to exhausted silence. The two still held on. Finally Jemma broke apart, arms now outstretched and holding on to Fitz’s elbows. She looked him in the eyes and spoke carefully. 

“Fitz, you listen to me. You have to listen to me. Don’t leave this lab. Don’t give up your place here. You are a brilliant scientist.”

Fitz shrugged out of her grasp and brought one hand to his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, and then frantically tried to wipe away his tears before facing her again.

“Jemma. We’re both feeling- feeling- grieving,” he said, finally finding the word, Scottish accent thicker than usual. “Let’s not do this now. We don’t have to talk about. About.” He paused. “This. This, right now.”

“Yes, we do!” 

Fitz was taken aback by the conviction in her voice. She reached out and took his hands. “Fitz, these last few days have been hell. But they’ve made me realize so much.”

For just a moment, Fitz’s eyes lit up with a kind of hope that twisted Jemma’s gut, and then his expression turned sour. Again, he spun around and out of her grasp, and quickly picked up a piece of tech on the lab table and began turning it around in his hands. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Jemma, ye’ don’t have to tell me - tell me - tell me… tell me bloody that to make me feel better.”

“No, Fitz! That’s not what I mean! I don’t know how to say this…” Her voice caught and she tried to breathe through the tears. In and out, once, twice, two more times. She took a cautious step toward Fitz, and when he didn’t walk away, she closed the distance between them and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. His whole body went still, and then he continued to examine the small gadget in his hands. He didn’t turn to face her.

“Fitz. Please look at me.” Nothing. “Please.”

Finally, he took a shuddering breath, and then placed the gadget back on the lab’s countertop. Still without turning, he lifted his arm and placed his hand on top of her hand. They stood like that for a moment, Jemma turned toward Fitz, and Fitz turned away, the only connection their hands on his shoulder.

“Fitz, when you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. And then there was water rushing in and you looked dead, Fitz. And I waited at your bedside for nine days while the world came crashing down around us.”

Fitz gently squeezed her hand but didn’t say anything.

“And when you woke up, I was so relieved. You were going to make it. But as the days went on, it became painfully apparent that the hypoxia had caused permanent damage. I’ll never forget that first look you gave me when you became lucid and you couldn’t speak. I wanted to be there for you. I was determined to help you through this.”

“Then why did ye’ leave?” Fitz asked, barely above a whisper.

Jemma’s tears came once again, but her voice remained steady. “Because I wasn’t helping. Every time we tried to work together, I just made things worse. I wasn’t patient enough, or I wasn’t patient in the right way. We’ve been codependent for years, and we both know we’ve reached the stage of an unhealthy codependency, but suddenly it became a problem. It became what was holding you back. What had once been our perfect give-and-take of ideas became an albatross weighing down your recovery. I knew I had to leave, to give you space.”

“Ye’ had to leave,” he said, emotionless. Fitz’s arm dropped away from Jemma’s hand, which still rested on his shoulder.

“I had to at least try something else, see if something else or someone else could help your recovery.”

“Ye’ had to try.”

“Fitz, I’m so sorry. But it was the right thing. And what I’m trying to say-”

Fitz jerked away from her and in one motion swept everything he could off the table with a wordless yell. Electronics and empty glass vials crashed to the floor. “Why!” he shouted. Fitz slapped the metal countertop once as hard as he could with both hands, and then began reaching for more materials, this time picking up individual pieces and throwing them on the floor and at the wall as hard as he could. “Why would ye’...!” he yelled, this time unable to finish the sentence. 

Jemma took a few steps back and stared in horror, both hands covering her mouth, flinching every time something shattered. Fitz continued to trash more of the lab, moving on to nearby tables, kicking at drawers, and finally at the brick wall, shouting with each hit. What was only a few minutes seemed to last hours. 

Finally, slowly, Fitz began to calm down. Breathing heavily, he turned around and stared, cheeks flushed. “It was the- the- the right thing? How can ye’ say that?” 

He held up both hands in front of him, palms open to Jemma. “Look.” He quickly closed and re-opened his right hand, and then started to on his left. But his fingers shook and three of the fingers couldn’t contract all the way into a fist. When he tried to re-open the hand, he couldn’t stretch out his fingers, and some stayed half-curled. 

“I will never be the same.” The words hung in the air. 

Fitz shook his hands on either side of his head, as if trying to will the words from his mind. “You’re… ye’ tell me things… like this. Trying to say. Like what you’re trying to say. But that’s not. You.”

Fitz took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jemma. He took the two steps between them and pointed at her face, inches from touching. His chin shook slightly as he tried to speak. “Liar.”

Jemma knocked away his hand and took a step back. “What are you talking about? I would never lie to you!”

“Liar.” 

“I left for your own good! My presence was hurting your recovery!”

“No!” he shouted. “Stop, just stop, Jemma. I see et’.” He pointed at his eyes. “In yours.” He pointed at hers. “That’s not the only reason ye’ left. Lying. You’re lying, if not to me, then to ye’self.” 

“I- I’m not lying! I don’t know what you’re- what you’re-” Jemma stared at Fitz, and suddenly her gaze left him and swept around the room. She took in the half-finished projects scattered about the lab, far more than Fitz used to have at any one time. The notebook and fountain pen where he’d been practicing calligraphy to regain fine motor control. The pictographic chart Mack and Fitz had created that Fitz pointed to when a word was too far out of reach. And then her sobs came.

“Fitz, I’m so sorry.” She grabbed at his shirt and pulled him close. “I’m so sorry. Every time I look at you, I feel-”

Fitz interjected, and they said it together. “Guilty.” 

“Yes. Guilty.”

“And pity.”

“No Fitz,” she tried to say, shaking her head slowly back and forth.

“But that’s what et’, what ‘et feels like, when ye’ look at me with guilt.” Fitz was quiet now, the anger and frustration used up. “Why on earth do ye’ feel guilty, Jemma?”

“Because this-” she said, sweeping her arms across the lab. And then she started talking, faster and faster. “This could be me. I could have been the one with the brain damage, struggling to articulate their ideas and thoughts. If it wasn’t for you, it would have been me. It should have been me. Or worse, I’d be dead.

“Every time I see you struggle, I know you’re there only because of the sacrifice you made for me. And it hurts so much. I’ve been so selfish, leaving like that, but I truly thought it would help you. I tried to do the selfless thing. But it backfired. You just got worse. I didn’t want to leave, I’d rather it hurt and be with you, than be away. It hurts either way, after all,” she said, with a quick, pained laugh. “I hate being apart from you. I’ve hated this, this chasm between us.” 

Jemma closed her eyes tight and then opened them once more, tears streaming down her face. She still held on to Fitz’s shirt, and twisted at the fabric again before letting go. “And the worst part,” she said, crying hard this time, taking gulps between words. “Is that you sacrificed everything because you love me, and I can’t even love you back the way you want me to. After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t even love you the way you deserve to be loved. I love you so much Fitz, but not like that. I wish I did, but I just don’t, and maybe I will someday. I hope I do, but right now I don’t, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Jemma continued to cry and covered her face with her hands. Fitz stared at her, stricken. And then his face relaxed, his expression gentle.

He reached out and guided Jemma’s hands away, and cupped her face in his hands. He locked eyes with her as he brushed away her tears with his thumb.

“Jemma. Oh Jemma. When I gave ye’ that oxygen, when I told ye’ how I feel, et’ wasn’t with strings attached.”

“But-”

“Jemma.” He spoke with measured words, clearly, with little stumbling. “I don’t know how to stop loving ye’, but it’s okay that ye’ don’t feel the same. I knew that. That’s why I didn’t say anything for so long. I don’t know what the- the- the future holds for us, and it’s okay if this doesn’t change. Live, love, go wherever life leads ye’. And I’ll try to move on from ye’, too. It’s all alright, just as long as it’s our future, as long as we’re in each other’s lives, as long as we’re still best f- friends, even if we’re never somethin’ more.”

He embraced her, and they rested their heads on each others’ shoulders. He soothingly brushed at her hair with one hand. “We’re alive. You’re healthy, shining as brightly as ye’ always have. I’m learning to live with my problems and finding more- more- ways around them every day. I’ll never be the same. All the time in the world won’t fix me. But I’m accepting that, and I need ye’ to, as well.

“I won’t pretend I’m not angry, and bitter, but not that ye’ don’t love me back. I’m angry that ye’ left, and I’m so glad you’re back. But you’ve nothing to feel guilty for. We can’t help how we feel.” 

“Please don’t leave the lab.”

Fitz sighed and the two pulled away. “Are ye’ sure it’s for the best that I stay?”

“Yes, Fitz! I can’t keep doing this without you. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave me like I left you. I’ll try to change. Whatever you need me to do, however you need me to act, I’ll have Mack teach me. We can work on this, together.”

“Did ye’ love Trip?” Jemma’s face crumpled. “Oh Jemma, I’m so sorry.” He reached out and held her hand with both of his.

“I didn’t love him, Fitz. But I could have… it was just beginning. I don’t know where it would have led, but it was just beginning.”

“I’m so sorry that ye’ lost him.” 

“I’m sorry that we all lost him.”

Fitz looked up again, away from Jemma and decisions and the world. He focused on breathing and tried to clear his head. 

“Fitz, what do you want? Do you want to keep working with me?”

Silence. Then - “Of course. But I don’t- I don’t- I don’t know. But we can try it, longer. I might change my mind, but we can try.”

A tension eased out of Jemma’s shoulders. “Thank you. For being willing to try this again. To try us again.”

Fitz finally pulled away, but gently this time, simply the end of a conversation rather than the end of a friendship. “I need time. To think. To… well, to forgive ye’, for leaving. But I want to try.”

“I want to try too.”

“Good.” Fitz seemed to run out of words, and the two looked at each other, exhausted. Jemma held out her arm, and Fitz finally linked his arm through hers. “Let’s get some food, shall we, then?” she asked. 

And the two quietly walked out of their lab.

**Author's Note:**

> I marathoned all of Agents of SHIELD this week and needed to deal with my feelings over FitzSimmons. I can't handle their relationship. It breaks my heart. I needed a fix-it fic, but as with most relationships in this show, nothing is that simple or easy. I'd like to think this fic is a precursor to them eventually getting together, after they've had some time to independently do some growing and healing.


End file.
